Mwandishi
Posted by Melissa Pavri | Filed under Poetry, Print
he looks like a sun kissed wanderer
with aquatic eyes and tumbleweed fingers
sweating somewhere outside of time
he is the spitting skeleton of
a perfect first word
the kind that makes any man
wanna break loose from his bones
and rename himself a writer
he is the humble sum of everything
between charcoal and ivory
eight octaves of what
the most common existence is made of
slow bass moans and
high pitched hysterics
intersecting at a cryptic coordinate
they say it’s the birthplace of humanity
i wonder if his
maiden voyage is
matchless
a cognac map to Atlantis
fingering the ten corners of the earth
a tangerine rose
blooming into cactus
an impossible fantasy
sailing under a purple moon
in a sea of daydreams
or is it just
where his hands
take him in the afternoon
corduroy pockets and
the small of a back
feels like the cracking of a
cool watermelon smile
and the universal belief that
souls are like galaxies
cupped in the fists of children
waiting to be born
little stars shining placental promise
but he is still just a fleck in his own iris
a crippled conversationalist
a mute symphony of impassioned phrases
that can only exit his being
through his fingers
he would gladly trade his lips
for canteloupe island eyes
and bipolar hands
one quarter note for every unspoken truth
he wishes he had the eloquence
to express
wishes it was
effortless
like melody
like harmony at sunrise
waking between his fingers
a crimson assurance that
everything will be okay
a nocturne euphemism for
a declaration of love
that slipped out from
between his brandy hands
a technicolored vista of afterthoughts
that never scrolled past his tongue
he spills his darkest secrets
on this chromatic canvas
excessive
uninhibited
belief leaking from every cleft
after he empties his chest
he’ll leave his legacy squarely
on the piano bench
look over the
shoulders of his grandchildren
with the full moon glow of
a man who beamed
a cosmos from his fingertips
and he’ll smile
a cool watermelon smile
that looks like dolphins dancing
and he’ll know that
this is what being human
should feel like
3 Responses to “Mwandishi”
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Joshua Bennett Says:
September 28th, 2009 at 8:37 amDolphins dancing? OD. You should send it to Herbie, son.
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Aysha El Shamayleh Says:
September 28th, 2009 at 10:33 pmthats FLY.
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msmallwood Says:
September 30th, 2009 at 12:18 pm“and the universal belief that
souls are like galaxies
cupped in the fists of children
waiting to be born”beautiful.
